Some days I can’t get out of my own way, I just kind of wander through the day clueless. Some days my grief feels overwhelming, for no reason other than “it’s time”. Fighting depression is a constant battle. Sometimes I get manic, sometimes I feel overwhelmed. Every now and again I feel “normal”, if such a thing exists at all.

Now if I felt the way I have over the last seventeen months for no reason, that might be definable as unhealthy or even crazy, but I think my reactions and the reactions of those around me are both logical, understandable and for lack of a better word, healthy, even though they are often very painful. I guess I feel like our collective reactions to this whole tragedy are proof of our mental health going in.

That’s not to say we don’t need help, and we’ve all availed our selves of help through individual talk therapy and support groups, etc.

When I think back to “before”, there were times I felt great, and there were times I felt kind of down. I never really used the word “depression” to describe those downs. Perhaps they were depressions but I always just considered it the ebb and flow of life. No one is happy all the time.

Looking back over “after” depression (perhaps just a clinical word for sadness) has been my primary reaction. There have been times I’ve felt a grief burst coming on, usually triggered by something I’ve seen or read or had to do. My natural instinct, which to date I have yet to overcome, is to “master” my pain by pushing it back. I can sense this isn’t healthy. I can often literally feel the stress build up inside me when I do this, but so far I haven’t been able to just let it flow. It’s something I’m working on.

So no, I don’t think I’m crazy. I don’t think I’ve been driven mad. I don’t think my family has lost its collective mind. We’re not crazy, we’re just sad.